People From The Past
by Deelylah
Summary: "Sometimes people from your past belong exactly there. In your past." One-shot about Sharon being a bit absentminded and Rusty wondering if it has anything to do with a phone call she received earlier that day.


The eyewitness report and the timeline, the ballistics report and the preliminary findings of the coroner, the witness list and the transcript of the recording... Sharon Raydor's hands flew from one piece of paper to the next, quick, efficient, frenetic but still careful enough not to make a mess. It had to be somewhere... Somewhere in this flood tide of papers just had to be what she was looking for.

"Are you like... looking for something?"

The voice of the teenager came out of the blue, completely unexpected, his words shooting through every fiber of Sharon's body as she startled. Her hands twitched, papers fell, her eyes fell closed.

"Nooo." She tried to sound calm and composed but the word was uncharacteristically stretched mainly because she was utterly upset. Her heart was beating far too quickly and it was difficult to concentrate, difficult to hear her own voice let alone Rusty'sover the sounds of rushing blood in her ears.

"Erm.. But you kind of look like you do," the boy replied, seemingly unaware of the distress he'd just caused. Or maybe he was just ignorant.

Sharon squeezed her eyes shut even tighter: No, not ignorant. He probably just didn't notice. There was no reason to assume ignorance.

"Don't worry about it."

Her heartbeat finally slowed down, which made it possible for her to breathe, hear and concentrate again. Quickly Sharon opened her eyes and immediately started picking up the sheets of paper, cursing silently the chaotic state her records were now in. Only when Rusty stepped next to the couch did Sharon lift her gaze. She could tell by the look on his facethat this conversation wasn't over for him yet**, **but she had no interest in pursuing the topic of "looking or not looking for something" any further. Therefore she put on her most stoic Captain Raydor mask**,** even though she was well aware that the jeans/shirt/cardigan combination she was wearing and her slightly messed-up hair certainly prevented her attempt at intimidation from reaching its full potential. The moment Rusty caught her eyes, he abruptly turned around and started walking towards the fridge.

"Everything's fine," Sharon stated**,** even though she knew it was an unnecessary comment. After all**,** Rusty had only asked her if she was looking for something and not how she was doing. Nevertheless a little reassurance could never hurt, could it?

The teenager didn't reply, but opened the refrigerator instead, so she allowed her mask to drop again and her muscles to finally relax a bit. Now she could go back to work and...

"If everything's fine then why is your notepad in the fridge?"

"What?" Sharon had already spoken the word out loud when the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in her head: she had been on the phone with Lieutenant Provenza, she had been taking notes, she had been thirsty, she had been looking for some water in the refrigerator... Yes, it kind of made sense that the notepad was in the fridge right now. Kind of.

"I was looking for that**,**" Sharon mumbled as she got up and walked towards Rusty**,** who was holding up the object of the restless search that she had started almost five minutes ago.

The look on the boy's face and the tone of his voice were a perfect combination of confusion, irritation and resignation.

"Didn't you just say you weren't looking for anything?"

"I did."

She reached out and snatched her notepad from Rusty's left hand without any further explanation.

"Thank you. And please close the door. Electricity isn't free. Neither is the gas that keeps the heater going."

When he nodded and did as he was told**,** Sharon turned and stepped back to her improvised working space with the firm belief that this was really the end of this conversation.

"It's because of him, isn't it?" Rusty asked after a short moment of silence.

Sharon froze. It was tempting to ask what or whom he was referring to**,** yet they both knew the answers to those questions. But what could she possibly tell him?

"The guy on the phone?" The teenager continued**,** as if further explanationwas needed.

Sharon bit her bottom lip while desperately trying to think of a suitable reply.

"I mean, he wanted something, right?" Rusty kept on pushing and Sharon could feel his gaze on her back as the teenager concluded: "Otherwise he wouldn't have called."

Sharon's initial surprise was slowly but steadily giving way to outrage. This was none of his business, no matter how good his intentions were. This was her life, she could talk to whomever she wanted to. And if she wanted to place her notepad in the fridge? Well, she had every right to do that as well!

When she slowly turned back towards the teenager her lips were already parted in order to give him a piece of her mind- but it was actually Rusty who spoke again**.**

"Why are you still married to him anyway?"

So he really _did _know who she'd been talking to on her cell when she got home two hours ago. But why had he then referred to her husband as "that guy"? And how had he even known she'd been talking to a guy**,** for that matter?

"It's all very catholic."

As she recited the standard reply, she noticed her anger starting to disappear again. There'd been something in Rusty's voice that made her outrage melt away, something... touching. He wasn't prying into her personal life for no reason -he was actually... worried.

"What is that even supposed to mean, Sharon?"

The question took her by surprise. No one had ever asked her that before but she had to admit that he had a point. What _was_ it supposed to mean?

"It means," she replied dragging the last word out a little, "that the Catholic church does not believe in divorce." As she finished the sentence Sharon quickly pushed her hands into the pockets of her cardigan, a motion that was as subconscious as it was calming. This was not the kind of conversation she wanted to have with Rusty. Or with anyone for that matter.

"But it's not like he's living here**,** so what's the point?"

The question made Sharon narrow her was the point of the church not believing in divorce**,** or what was the point in not getting a divorce? The captain decided that it had to be the latter**.**

Rusty proved her right by adding**,** "Aren't you guys separated anyway?"

"It's called a 'legal separation,'Rusty. And it's not a divorce but..." She stopped mid-sentence, suddenly wondering why on Earth she was discussing this with him. Why was she discussing her living arrangements with a 16-year**-**old?

_Because he's part of your living arrangement now_, she reminded herself**,** but remained silent long enough for Rusty to pick up the ball again.

"I'm just saying that it makes zero sense since you don't even go to mass. Aren't you supposed to go there every week or something?"

He seemed upset**, **even though Sharon had no idea why he would be. No matter why he was acting this way, doubting her beliefs crossed a certain line.

"I don't think that the salvation of my soul is anything you need to concern yourself with, Rusty."

She made sure her voice was calm and determined.

They were living together, yes.  
Sometimes they talked about things, yes.  
From time to time even about personal things, yes.  
But there was still a line.

"But I.." he started in a rather rebellious tone of voice**,** but then hesitated. After a second his shoulders slumped a bit and he nodded. "Fine." He sounded a bit sore, almost sulky, "If you want to keep on putting your notepad into the fridge because of some douche**,** that's really none of my business. Just give me a heads up in case you wanna use the oven. You might burn the house down and I don't want to be here when that happens."

With those words he basically stormed out of the room, leaving a quite surprised and utterly confused Sharon Raydor behind. The boy was clearly overreacting, exaggerating and... And he kind of had point. Sharon only misplaced things on very rare occasions - very, very rare occasions - and she certainly would never misplace something as crucial as her notepad.  
But she had today.

And she did it because of a man she had vowed to love for the rest of her life when she had been too young to understand the extent of such a vow... when "in good times and in bad" was just an abstract concept in the world of two young people in love, who had never seen anything even remotely close to "bad."

Sharon's hands slid out of the pockets as she slowly walked to one of the armchairs and sat down.  
Yes, she had loved him.  
Yes, he was the father of her children.  
Yes, she had vowed in a church in front of God to love and honor him for the rest of her life.  
But it had been so very**,** very long ago. And they'd both been different people back then. So very different.

Sharon leaned back and allowed herself to let out a sigh.  
They had been separated for 20 years now.  
He shouldn't have the power to make her misplace her notepad anymore.  
And he shouldn't be requesting to stay at her apartment when his job brought him to town.  
He shouldn't take her out to dinner anymore.  
He should just leave her alone.  
It was about time.

On an impulse she reached for her phone, dialed a number she shouldn't have had memorized but knew by heart nevertheless**,** and for once in her life she was actually fine with the fact that only the voicemail answered her call.

"It's me, Sharon. I just called to tell you again that it's not convenient for you to stay here next week. But you were right, we should have dinner. We need to talk."

She hung up quickly and threw the phone on the couch as if it was spreading some kind of disease.  
Had she really just done that?  
Yes, she had.  
She smiled.  
It felt good.  
She'd taken the first steps toward setting herself free from this man two decades ago when she'd demanded a legal separation.  
It was about time to finish what she'd started.  
She liked that idea.  
She really did.

With a smile still on her lips Sharon basically jumped to her feet. Yes, she had done the right thing and yes, she was going to finally do the right thing here. And she actually owed it to Rusty**,** so her steps led her right to his room.

"Rusty?" She asked gently as she carefully knocked on the door. She didn't want him to think she was mad at him**,** for she really wasn't.

"What?" He shot through the door, apparently still upset for reasons beyond Sharon's understanding.

"May I come in?" Her hand was already on the handle but she wasn't pushing it down even the tiniest bit. She wasn't going to enter if he wouldn't allow her to.

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

It wasn't exactly the reply she had hoped for but it would have to do.

She opened the door just a bit - painfully aware of the fact that Rusty didn't really want her there and had only allowed her to come in due to politeness - and instead of entering**,** she poked her head carefully into the room. She wouldn't stay and disturb the teenager for long, there were just two words she had to say. But Rusty was sitting on his desk, his back turned to her and she for sure was not going to talk to the back of his head so she had to make it three words.

"Rusty?" Her voice was even gentler now, the tiny smile on her lips clearly audible.

"Yes?" He sighed as he turned around and her smile grew larger: "Thank you."

Then she pulled her head back and closed the door.

This time it was Rusty who was left behind utterly confused.

But he quickly pushed his confusion asides and smiled slightly as he turned back to his homework. Maybe Sharon wouldn't burn down the house after all. And hopefully she'd realized something he'd learned the hard way: sometimes people from your past belong exactly there. In your past.


End file.
